A Change of Trouble
by skygawker
Summary: The true story of how Anakin got his scar. Anakin/Obi-Wan.


_"With me, a change of trouble is as good as a vacation." — David Lloyd George_

* * *

Ten seconds after walking into his apartment, Obi-Wan sank back into the couch cushions with a sigh. A long day of Council meetings less than a week on the heels of his and Anakin's return from the Outer Rim sieges had taken it out of him more than he'd realized, and right now he wanted to do nothing but sit and...well, do nothing.

He could hear the sound of water running from the bathroom. Obi-Wan's lips quirked into a smile: it was an odd time for a shower, but Obi-Wan had his suspicions. Just before he'd left for his last Council meeting, Anakin had mentioned that he was planning on tinkering with—sorry, _tuning up_ —his starfighter, and Obi-Wan would have bet all the credits in his pockets that the younger man had managed to get himself covered in grease and engine oil.

Not an unpleasant image, if he was being honest with himself. Though certainly _uncivilized_...

He leaned his head back against the couch, eyes drifting closed as he listened to the sound of the shower and breathed in the familiar scent of their shared apartment, grateful for the time to relax. Just a few more minutes, he told himself; he'd stand up and start making dinner soon, but for once there was no need for him to rush…

And then his eyes snapped open as a loud _thunk_ emanated from the direction of the bathroom, followed by a string of vicious Huttese swear words.

Peace and quiet never seemed to last long in the Kenobi-Skywalker residence, but really, Obi-Wan thought, that had been less than a _minute._ "Anakin?" he called, standing up and walking over to the fresher door. "Are you all right?"

There was a long pause, and concern grew in Obi-Wan's chest. He raised his hand, then hesitated; despite the recent changes in their relationship, it still felt unseemly to barge into the bathroom while Anakin was inside without permission. The silence stretched out for several more seconds, and Obi-Wan was just about to use the Force to get the door open when Anakin finally responded. "I'm fine," came the younger man's voice through the door. Another pause, then, sounding faintly embarrassed: "Um, do you think you could maybe get the medkit?"

Obi-Wan stared at the door, opening his mouth and then closing it again, then hurried over to the closet where they kept a well-stocked box of medical supplies. The small box had gotten more than its fair share of use over the years, from the time when Anakin had been an accident-prone danger-magnet Padawan to the occasions now when they returned from missions with cuts and bruises not serious enough to force a trip to the infirmary.

But this time, Anakin hadn't gotten injured on a battlefront. This time he'd managed to get himself injured in the bathroom. Some days, "danger-magnet" didn't even seem to cover it.

"Got it," Obi-Wan called as he approached the door, which clicked unlocked and opened to reveal Anakin sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a towel wrapped around his waist.

He also had blood dripping down his face and onto his chest, and his flesh hand was pressed over his right eye.

"What did you _do_?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously, hurrying over to Anakin's side and prying his hand away from his face to get a better look at where the trickle of blood was coming from. Pushing aside the curls of hair that had fallen across the younger man's face revealed an angry-looking cut that spanned from his forehead to the top of his cheek, passing over his right eye, which was squeezed tightly shut against the scarlet liquid dripping down his face.

Obi-Wan opened the medkit and removed a bottle of antiseptic, crouching in front of Anakin and carefully swabbing the wound. It wasn't too deep, though as a head wound it was certainly bleeding a great deal. He'd seen Anakin with far worse injuries, and he had enough experience to know that this one was probably painful while ultimately not very serious, but that didn't stop the small swell of worry at the sight of his partner's blood. "Anakin?" he repeated, when no answer to his question came.

Anakin winced at the touch of the antiseptic. "I, uh." He coughed. "I sort of...slipped. And, um. Fell."

Obi-Wan paused in his ministrations, pressing a cloth against Anakin's head. The embarrassment he'd heard in Anakin's voice earlier was beginning to click into place. "You hit your head on the _bathtub?_ "

"It was slippery!" Anakin protested, and Obi-Wan tried to hide his amusement. For someone who could move so gracefully on the battlefield or in the dojo, Anakin could on occasion be remarkably clumsy—this wasn't the first time Obi-Wan had known him to trip over his own two feet. "Look," Anakin said, and Obi-Wan would have heard the pout in his voice even if he hadn't been close enough to see the expression on the younger man's face, "stop smirking at me and just fix it up, all right?"

"I _could_ put a bacta patch on it," Obi-Wan told him "but honestly, Anakin, I think you ought to go to the infirmary and get the healers to take a look at it." He frowned at the blood seeping through the washcloth, amusement forgotten. "This could leave a scar if you aren't careful."

Anakin crossed his arms. "I am _not_ going to the healers and telling them I slipped in the bathtub," he said in a tone of finality.

Obi-Wan sent a silent prayer to the Force for patience. "You can't—what if you need _stitches_ , Anakin? You and I both know the healers have higher-quality bacta than what's in this medkit." He waved the small box in front of Anakin's face. "They can help it to heal faster, if nothing else. You can't deny yourself proper medical treatment just because you're embarrassed!"

Apparently, Anakin could. "I am not going to the healers and telling them I slipped in the bathtub," he repeated stubbornly, sweeping his arm to the side for emphasis. "I'm not doing it. No way."

Obi-Wan sputtered. "Anakin!"

"What, like _you'd_ ever go to the healers if it wasn't absolutely necessary?" The corner of Anakin's mouth quirked upward. "Or am I thinking of a different Jedi who once avoided Vokara Che for three days after a mission even though he had a concussion?" He raised the eyebrow that wasn't currently bleeding into a washcloth, looking at Obi-Wan expectantly.

"That's different," said Obi-Wan with all the dignity that he could muster. "And anyways, I didn't realize that it was a concussion."

Anakin grinned up at him, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure."

It was time for a change of subject, Obi-Wan decided. "And speaking of which, how do we know that _you_ don't have a concussion? You did hit your head, after all." He flicked the hair on top of Anakin's temple with a finger. "Isn't that another reason to let the healers take a look at it?"

"You worry too much," said Anakin. Obi-Wan, remembering the various times he had been injured over the past twelve years and Anakin's fairly consistent overreactions, opened his mouth to point out the blatant hypocrisy of that statement, but Anakin cut him off. "I don't have a concussion! Go ahead and check if you want." He tilted his face up towards Obi-Wan.

More concerned about the possibility of a head injury than on debating the point, Obi-Wan decided to let it drop. He reached forward and placed his hand on the side of Anakin's head, closing his own eyes and opening himself up to the Force. As always, Anakin's presence burned bright against the back of his mind, a familiar and all-too-addicting sensation.

Force-healing wasn't Obi-Wan's specialty, but he had enough skill to check for injuries. Breathing steadily, he allowed the Force to complete the circuit between himself and Anakin, and stretched his perception out through the younger man's body. After over two years at war, of fighting side-by-side on uncountable battlefields and tending to each other's injuries afterwards, this too was familiar. A dozen old aches and injuries flitted under his awareness, from a still-healing bruise on Anakin's back from their last mission to the jagged edge in the Force where his right arm ended, as well as the new, painful cut on his forehead.

Fortunately, Anakin seemed to be correct: Obi-Wan couldn't sense a concussion. He said as much aloud.

"Told you so," Anakin said, sounding more smug than a man with blood dripping down his face really ought to. "I'm fine."

"You're right, you're right." Obi-Wan injected as much faux humility as he could into his voice. "I suppose I underestimated the hardness of your head. I should have known better."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Just put the bacta batch on, will you Master?" He reached out, lifting a bandage from the first-aid kit and waving it in front of Obi-Wan's face.

Obi-Wan shook his head, fondness mixing with his exasperation. "Oh, all right," he said, grabbing the patch. After a moment, he added, "And I thought I'd told you not to call me that anymore."

Cupping Anakin's chin with his hand, Obi-Wan gently tilted the younger man's head back and pressed the bacta patch into place. He smoothed out the edges of the bandage with his fingers, then, on a whim, carded his hand through Anakin's damp hair. Anakin leaned into the touch, and Obi-Wan allowed his hand to drop to the side of Anakin's face. "There you go," said Obi-Wan quietly.

"Thank you," Anakin murmured, eyes darker now than they had been a minute ago.

Feeling himself flush slightly, Obi-Wan stood up straight. "You should probably get dressed."

Anakin rose to his feet as well. "Or I could not get dressed," he suggested. He waggled his eyebrows hopefully, slipping his mechanical hand in between the layers of Obi-Wan's robes.

"You're impossible," Obi-Wan said, slipping his hand over Anakin's and then firmly removing it, "and also, you still have blood all over your face. It's not really an attractive look."

Anakin brought a hand up to his cheek as if he'd actually managed to forget about it. "Yeah, yeah. Hand me that washcloth, will you?"

Obi-Wan picked up the cloth from earlier, grimacing at the reddish-brown stains that now covered most of it. He walked over to the sink and rinsed it out, then tossed it back at Anakin, who began scrubbing at the blood that had begun to dry on his face and chest. Obi-Wan spared a moment to appreciate the sight of his upper body as he cleaned himself before turning and walking out into the hallway and then into their bedroom to grab a clean set of Anakin's robes. Returning to the bathroom, he tossed them to Anakin. With a somewhat reluctant look on his face, Anakin pulled them on, then followed Obi-Wan back out into the living room.

"You know," Obi-Wan commented as he settled onto the couch, "there is one flaw in your plan not to go to the healers."

Anakin dropped down beside him, stretching his arms out above his head. "Only one? I must be losing my touch."

Obi-Wan gave him a look, and then continued, "If that _does_ leave a scar, people are going to wonder how you got it."

"Oh," said Anakin immediately. "That's not a problem. I'll just make something up."

"Now, this I want to hear." Amused, Obi-Wan allowed his body to relax against the cushions. "Do continue."

Anakin pursed his lips thoughtfully, a mischievous look crossing his face. "I'll tell them I got it in a lightsaber duel," he said finally. "Or, I dunno, from a piece of shrapnel, or a near-miss from a blaster bolt." He swung his legs up onto the couch, stretching out and laying his head back on Obi-Wan's lap. "I'll think of something."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan said, idly running his fingers through Anakin's hair. "Actually, come to think of it, it would probably be better if you didn't say anything at all. Let people assume you're being humble about being injured in the course of some dramatic heroics, and their imaginations can do the rest of the work. Create an air of mystery."

Anakin snickered. "Very devious. I knew there was a reason I keep you around."

"Devious?" Obi-Wan feigned affront. "I'm only counseling you not to lie to people, Anakin. After all, as a Jedi Master, it _is_ my duty to guide you away from dishonesty."

This time, Anakin laughed aloud. "Right, because making people think something that isn't true just because I didn't contradict them is the height of honesty." He shook his head, mirth dancing across his features. "You have some twisty morals, Obi-Wan."

"Well, if you'd _prefer_ to tell people you tripped over your own feet and hit your head on the side of the bathtub…" Obi-Wan paused. "Actually, perhaps you're right. I'll be sure to tell everyone exactly what really happened. In the name of honesty, of course."

Anakin sat up again, swatting at Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Very funny."

"Oh, I'm quite serious." Obi-Wan schooled his expression to look innocent, sitting upright. "I only want to look after your spiritual well-being, and if that means keeping your ego in check by telling people about your difficulties remaining upright..."

Anakin tackled him against the cushions, pressing one hand over Obi-Wan's mouth. "Don't you _dare!_ "

Obi-Wan knocked his hand aside. "Or what?" he asked. He didn't have any real compulsion to tell anyone, actually—frankly he doubted anyone would really care—but Anakin made himself so easy to tease that it was difficult to resist.

"Or…" said Anakin, then trailed off as his eyes caught on Obi-Wan's. From the jolt in the Force that tingled down Obi-Wan's neck, he suspected that Anakin had noticed how close they were to each other and gotten distracted. Pressing his advantage, Obi-Wan slipped a hand up onto the small of Anakin's back to draw him closer and was rewarded by the widening of the younger man's eyes. "I could show _you_ my 'difficulties remaining upright'," Anakin suggested, voice low.

Obi-Wan spent a moment trying to decide if that was supposed to be a threat or an attempt at seduction. Either way, it was a bad enough line (though not the worst that he'd ever heard from his former apprentice) that he almost laughed aloud. But he'd developed a certain fondness for Anakin's terrible attempts at flirting, and the accompanying look that Anakin was giving him, eyes dark and intense, was enough to make his breath hitch. "I think you're trying to distract me," he said.

"Maybe I am." Anakin lowered himself down, closing the few inches remaining between them, and pressed his warm lips to the side of Obi-Wan's neck. "Is it working?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted, angling his head for a proper kiss. Anakin laughed breathlessly, and after that there was very little talking.

* * *

A/N:

This was written for a prompt from opencirclefleet on Tumblr as part of a giveaway. The plot is based off of a quote by George Lucas, who when asked how Anakin got his scar, replied "I think Anakin got it slipping in the bathtub, but of course, he's not going to tell anybody that."


End file.
